My eternal story
by LoSa
Summary: If every letter is heartbeat; if every word is inspiration - every story is life, is love; every love story is immortal…


If every letter is heartbeat; if every word is inspiration - every story is life, is love; every love story is immortal…

###

Sometimes life is like a book. Day after day, month after month, year after year life has been turning the pages of our books, telling one story after another – funny, or tragic or dramatic. And you look back, rereading stories in the book of your life, and realise that it already happened; that all these stories were already written in someone else's book long before you. Your story isn't the first and isn't the last in this world, but it's yours, and that's why it's special, unique for you. They say that there're no absolutely identical people on the Earth as well as there're no absolutely identical stories. And you reread pages of your book and smile… or cry… or shake your head in disbelief, not understanding how this could happen in your life.

Sometimes it seems to me that Teen Power Inc is like a favourite book from my childhood, which I can read over and over again, remembering and reliving in my mind those events which happened to us. In the TPI book there were a lot of different stories, but the most important thing about it was that I went through all these events together with my friends – people, who coloured my grey life I lived before I had met them.

We have grown up and left behind these games with criminals and casual jobs. Unfortunately, it turned out to be that glue, which kept us together and didn't let our so different natures drift apart earlier.

Last year we graduated from school and went our separate ways. Some of us are more successful, some are less. At first we tried to keep in touch, but without similar interests it was impossible. We're definitely on good terms now and sometimes we still have a great time together or chat on the phone. But, I can't help noticing that some of us more and more often find excuses not to come, referring to business or tiredness, and so often I find myself spending such evenings in company only of Tom and Liz - my best friends.

I can't say that I mind it, though. Even in your favourite books there are characters you like more than others. In this book about TPI, Tom and Liz are my most favourite characters. Most of the good moments of my life are connected with them, and I'm glad that they both are still in my life, and I do hope they'll share my future with me.

###

I stretch and sit up on my bed. Sun rays stream through the blue curtains, filling my room with muffled blue light. Delicious smells of pancakes are wafting from the kitchen. Dad must be cooking breakfast. Oh, I love Sundays! Dad and I are both at home; we don't have to run to the Pen and work. Some time ago we agreed that no matter how much work there's in the Pen, Sunday would be our day-off, when we wouldn't go to the office or do anything else, what is connected with work. Now Sunday is our personal day, which we can devote to ourselves and our interests.

I jump off the bed, have a quick shower and sprint downstairs. The day is going to be terrific – sunny, warm enough and totally mine.

"Good morning!" Dad smiles at me, turning away from the stove as I come into the kitchen.

"Morning, Dad," I smile back. "Do you need help?"

"How about making coffee?"

"Sure," I come over to the coffee maker. While I pour water into it and switch it on, Dad sets the table.

"How's your research going?" he asks.

"Quite well," I nod. "I need to check some things before writing further."

It's a little social-psychological research I have been doing for the Pen. As long as I remember myself, I have been working in the Pen, but some time ago I decided that it was time to seriously start studying journalism. I chose an interesting issue and began this research. When I finish it, Raven Hill Administration probably will be interested in the results of my work, what in turn will improve citizens' lives. It will mean a lot to me. And maybe I'll even write a book according to the results of my research and then… I imagine myself standing in a great, luxurious hall; a famous publicist is shaking my hand and congratulating me for receiving a reward as the most successful young journalist.

"Hey, Elmo, wake up!" Dad's voice jerks me out of my dream about my journalistic career and backs me to the reality, where the coffee maker boils and hisses, as if indignant that I have forgotten about it.

I switch it off and pour hot coffee into cups.

"So. What are you going to do today?" dad puts the plate with pancakes down on the table, sits down in front of me and takes one pancake.

"I want to go to the library. I need to look for some information for my research," I reply, putting two pancakes on my plate and lavishly spreading jam over them. "You?"

He shrugs. "I'll go to a garage. We need to have our car inspected. I don't like that screechy sound when I start the engine. If it's something serious, we'd better start repairing the car right now before the whole engine system breaks."

I nod. He's definitely right in it. We can find money for a little maintenance of our car, but not for major repair. Running a free newspaper isn't a very profitable business. Though, we had been living for so long without any car at all and didn't feel deprived. Quite the opposite I'd say, we moved much more than we do now.

I bit a piece of my pancake and make a swig of coffee. Mmm… the pancakes are delicious! At that time out of the corner of my eye I catch a headline of an article in the newspaper which dad has left on the table. Something about homeless animals.

I run my eyes over the article. It tells about a new animal shelter. The author asks people, who care about destiny of homeless or abandoned animals to help the shelter with the advertisement for citizens to know that there's a new place where they can get a pet or vise versa, where they can bring a homeless or lost animal, found in the streets.

Excellent article! Not that I care a lot about homeless animals, but it's a good excuse to phone Liz and suggest a little walk together.

I started having feelings for Liz as soon as I joined TPI. I liked to spend time with her. I liked her spirited laughter, kind heart and her ability to smooth conflicts between the members in the gang. My feeling had been growing stronger during all these years while we were in Teen Power Inc. I felt warm and calm when she was next to me. I wanted to have her by my side for ever; I wanted her vivid smile at me was something more than just a friendly smile. Unfortunately, I didn't find strengths to tell her about my feelings, though several times I made up my mind to do that.

We graduated from school, stopped working with TPI and met each other less and less often, but my feelings for her didn't fade. Quite the opposite. Since we didn't spend so much time together as we used to and didn't have to argue, I started to realise that I missed her. From time to time I phoned her and asked her out to a movie or theater or suggested going for a walk together without the others. But mostly she refused, saying that she was busy, and even if she agreed, all the same we ended up meeting Tom or Sunny or spending evening with the whole company.

At such moments it seems to me that Liz avoids being alone with me. Probably she knows about my attitude to her and doesn't want to offend me. Or maybe there's something else. Another boy, for example. As far as I know she doesn't date anyone now, but I can't know it for sure, can I?

Anyway, I don't give up and regularly phone her, hoping that one day she'll agree to go on a date with me. But it's getting heavier and heavier to ask her out and constantly receive refusals in reply. Why do I do it? I ask myself every time when she says "Sorry, I can't go today." or "Elmo, I've already arranged to meet with Sunny. Don't you mind if I ask her to go with us?" If the girl doesn't want a relationship with me, why do I insist then? Maybe I should leave her alone?

Sometimes it seems that every person is like a little book in the huge library, called The Universe, which contains so many books of all genres – horrors and tragedies, dramas and comedies, interesting and uninteresting books, useful and useless books, books which stick in our memory and books, we forget soon after we have read them.

If every person is a book, Liz definitely is a very interesting and catchy book, which I'd like to read again and again, constantly finding something new or interesting in it. I'd give a lot for that.

###

After swallowing my breakfast, I rush to the living room, fling myself into the armchair and grab the phone. I stare at it for a few seconds, thinking if I should call Liz or finally give up my desperate efforts to ask her out. But once this thought's crossed my mind, my heart immediately objects: "she might agree this time!".

I've made up my mind and dialed Liz's number.

"Hello."

"Hi!" I breathe out. "It's Elmo. How have you been?"

"Oh, hi, Elmo! I'm so glad to hear you. I'm fine! How are you?"

"Fine. Listen, Liz, I've found an interesting article. It's about homeless animals. What are you doing? We could go for a walk, the weather is so great today. I want to tell you what I think we can do for…"

"Oh, Elmo, I'm so sorry! I can't walk today, I'm really busy. Let's discuss it next time, okay? Can your article wait for some time?"

"Oh… sure. No problem."

"Thank you. I'll call you back later, okay?"

"Okay."

Doing my best to sound steadily, I say goodbye and hang up. My crushed heart is sinking somewhere down in my chest; disappointment and offence are blurring my mind.

"That's it," I say sternly to myself. "It's the last time when I've called her. I'll never call her again. Never".

I sadly grin and shake my head. I promise it to myself probably for the thousandth time. Every time she says "no", I promise never to call her again, but time passes by, I calm down and again hope that maybe this time she'll say "yes". How long do I have to live like that?

###

Liz, of course, called neither that evening, nor the next days. Days go by. I write articles for the Pen, do my research and live my grey life, every night and day thinking about Liz; dreaming that one day she'll give me her beautiful smile and say "hello. How about walking along with me?"

Sometimes I meet her in the street. We nicely chat like good friends. Sometimes the whole gang gathers together and we have a good time like we used to do when we were famous Teen Power Inc. Sometimes I forget about everything, absorbed in my research or in a book. But more and more often I find myself working; I make one difficult task after another. The more difficult the article I'm writing is, the better. That keeps Liz out of my mind and distracts me from this heavy feeling I have got inside when I realise how desperate and ridiculous my efforts to get a date with Liz are.

###

I haven't called or talked to Liz for about a month. Dad and I had to persuade a large advertiser to put his ads in the Pen. After a couple of weeks of persuading, we finally managed to sign a contract with him.

On Thursday as soon as the new issues have arrived and I left through them, I could say for sure that this issue was one of the most successful issues of the year. Dad, the main editor and a few journalists have stayed in the office to celebrate. I decided to go home.

I walk out of the building and saunter up the street. Thursday is a short day in the Pen. It's only afternoon. I'm walking in a great mood, enjoying warm sun rays on my face. This contract means that now the Pen's financial state certainly will improve. I'll receive money to develop my research. The weather is terrific. It's a spring sunny day; the sky is bright blue, warm wind blows pleasantly into my face.

Liz likes spring… a thought floats in my head. Well, Liz likes everything what makes us feel alive – spring, flowers, animals. She's herself like a spring – warm and vivid. Maybe I should call her?... I want so much to see her today…

I come home, sit down on the divan in the living room and take the phone. Should I call and suggest walking together? Really, should I? I don't want to hear another "no" in reply. But on the other hand, she might agree, mightn't she?.. My full of love heart is desperately arguing with my reasonable mind. And as usual my heart gets the upper hand. I sigh and very reluctantly dial Liz's number, ready to the worst.

"Hello."

"Hello, Liz! How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thanks, Elmo. How are you?"

"Better than ever. Liz, the weather is so great. What are you going to do today? We could walk to the Glen or to the ocean. The bay must be beautiful at this time of day."

"Oh, Elmo, I can't go today. I'm so sorry! I really am! Mum asked me to help her with flowers and I promised that I wouldn't go anywhere today."

"Oh… Never mind. I understand."

"Elmo, please don't be offended. Listen, I'll call you when I'll be free, okay?"

"Yeah… sure. I'll be waiting. Bye."

I hang up and fall back on pillows, feeling a familiar surge of disappointment rise up in my chest. I thought I was ready to hear "no", but probably deep inside I did hope that she'd agree.

I feel tears stinging my eyes. Angrily I swallow the lump in my throat, stand up and trudge to my room. Somehow the spring charm is broken; my mood is completely ruined by only one short word "no". I don't feel like going anywhere or doing anything now. All what I want to do is just crawl into my bed and mindlessly watch TV or read a book. Anything, but not to think.

Sometimes it seems to me that I have been reading one and the same book with different covers over and over again. It's like when you find a book with a new, beautiful cover and think that it will be a new story, and you rush to read it… but after a while you realise that it already happened… that you already felt the same… And time goes by, you find a new book with a bright new cover, and even though it happened to you so many times, you rush to read this book… and end up getting disappointed again.

I perfectly know what will happen when I call Liz, I know what I'll feel. So why do I keep making the same mistakes? What do I have to do to stop looking at covers of this book and find someone new instead?

Well, I know the answer. I just don't want anyone else.

###

I've been silent for a few weeks, until I meet Liz in the street one Saturday evening.

"Hi!" she smiles at me.

"Hi," I nod, wearing, as I hope, a neutral expression on my face. "How are you?"

"Fine." Liz replies. "Elmo, you didn't come to Sunny's place last weekend. Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah. I was… busy."

"I understand… Elmo, I have to go. See you later?"

"Sure." I dryly nod.

Liz casts a suspicious glance at me and I feel myself going red in the face. I try my best to keep my face emotionless and not to show her my offence. But the fact that she spoke first and didn't even let me invite her anywhere, squeeze my poor heart like an iron hand. Having forced a smile and said goodbye, I turn around and trudge up the street. After a few steps I look back over my shoulder. To my surprise she's still standing and staring attentively at me. I wave and smile once again, then turn and walk away.

Sometimes it seems to me that for Liz I'm like a read through book. One of those books, once read you don't want to read again. A boring, uninteresting, too predictable book.

There are so many love books full of untrue in the world. Stories with happy ends, where a light dinner on the first date turns into a great feast with a wedding ring on the finger. These stories may be different; beautiful plots and bright covers may be different; but they all end at the same point… I hate love stories. They are so untrue.

###

My life flows, calm and eventless. I wake up in the morning and go to the Pen to work. In the evening I come home, have dinner with Dad and go to bed. Everything is so predictable; every day is so alike as the previous one. But I have no mood to change my life. I just don't feel like it. What for? I haven't been calling Liz for more than a month. It's difficult, but I promised myself to leave her alone and not to phone her any more. I try to keep my word no matter how hurting it feels. Every time when I think about her, or feel like calling her, I make myself think about something else or do anything what can get her out of my head. After all if the girl avoids me, I shouldn't insist. I'm one of those people, who never give up and keep moving forward to their aim through all obstacles, no matter what it costs. But sometimes even such people should just give up. It's time to admit that sometimes persistency isn't enough to get what you want.

Liz will never be mine; she's the book I'll never read. I've got to admit it and learn to lose.

One day my feeling for Liz will fade. There will be a day when I'll wake up and understand that I'm finally free from my love and open for new relationships. My heart will stop wildly beating every time I see Liz or think about her. One day I'll meet Liz in the street and won't feel anything. This day will come. All what I need now is to wait. And patiently go through all this pain.

###

Another Sunday morning has come. An usual Sunday morning, almost the same as the morning a week ago. As usual I get up, open the blue curtains and have a shower. Then I find some clothes, put a smile on my face and go downstairs. It's just another day I have to live through. I'm so tired to live such a dreary life. I want to be free from my feelings. When this craziness will finally cease and this constantly hurting sensation inside me disappear?

I sigh and step into the kitchen. Dad looks up at me and smiles. I smile back and go over to the oven to make a cup of hot chocolate – probably the only thing that can raise my mood.

Dad is telling something to me. He doesn't seem to notice my state. I guess that's because I'm always so quiet and asocial. I don't like to tell anyone about my problems or feelings. After all that's nobody's business what I feel inside. Sometimes life is like a book – one day any story will finish and a new story begin. You just have to find strengths to read this story to the end.

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that the phone ring seems so unexpected and makes me jump. I return to the reality, slowly take the phone and answer.

"Hi!" I hear a friendly voice on the other end of the line.

I gape at the receiver. I just can't believe my ears. My heart starts beating faster.

"Hi, Liz," I make myself utter.

"Elmo I've thought… I know it must be sounding ridiculous…stupid… Listen, are you free this morning? I've thought we could go for a walk together. I know I was acting like a fool, but that's because I… Well, I miss our friendship… and you."

I feel my mouth twist in a happy, stupid smile from ear to ear. My heart is banging against my ribs; her words "I miss our friendship… and you" are pulsing in my head.

"Elmo... Are you there?"

Am I here? I doubt it. I'm in heavens. I feel like I can collapse at any moment.

"Yes! Of course I'm free!" I breathe out into the phone. "Yes! Liz… you can't imagine how much I'm glad to hear you."

Liz suggests meeting in the park in half an hour. I agree and hang up. It doesn't really matter where and when. Is it possible that my dream has come true?

I grab dad's sandwich and muttering "Sorry, dad, I'm in such a hurry!", I quickly swallow it. Then I empty my cup of hot chocolate and run out of the house.

I quickly stride along the streets to the park, having stopped only one time to buy a big bouquet of lilies - Liz's favourite flowers. I love this girl. I love this book. And it doesn't really matter which cover it has – I'm going to read this book even if it has no cover at all.

I run into the park and see her coming towards me from another entrance. She comes up to me and I hold out the flowers. And like in my dream, Liz gives me her vivid smile. She smiles only at me. And not like a friend, but much more meaningful.

Still smiling, she breathes in the fresh fragrance of lilies and whispers "thank you." Then slightly blushing, she kisses me on the cheek.

I hold my breath, my heart thumping wildly. But this time because of happiness.

I was wrong… Sometimes even love stories are true. A story may finish, but love is immortal…


End file.
